Free Fall
by flawedesires
Summary: AU. Know what it's like to fall with nothing to catch you? Percy and Annabeth do. As it turns out, pretty heiresses and mischievous executives aren't very good cushions. They're polar opposites, but they can soothe the landings for each other, can't they?
1. An Errand of Sorts

**Well, in the midst of writing my other, slightly soapier story, _Voyage of the Argonauts_, I have decided to create another intriguing type of story: AU. Yes, I realize these kinds can get a little insane, but it's interesting to imagine exactly who (and where) the Percy Jackson characters would be if not demigods. Am I right?**

**So, yes, no one in this story has any god blood of any kind. Names might cause a problem, but I won't name someone without giving you the slightest bit of a hint. And one hint is: all the names of the "gods" in "human" form in this story start with the same letter their "godly" names do. Got it?**

**Let's see if you can figure it out. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: An Errand of Sorts<strong>

Percy Jackson loved New York City. Why need an explanation? It never questioned him. It never slept, much like him. Everyone kept mostly to their own business. And the noise—that was one of the best parts. The noise meant that whatever Percy was doing, whether it was work, secrets, or insomnia, he wasn't alone.

He'd been needing reassurance of that lately.

"_You know, you could stay, if you want."_

"_Stay?"_

"_Here. With me. I know you hate the business in New York. If you haven't noticed, Idaho's a long way from New York."_

"_I—"_

"_They won't find you."_

"_Cal, as long as there's PIs for hire, I'm not hidden. They'll find me."_

"_You don't want to stay."_

"_I didn't say that."_

"_Whatever, Percy. I don't care about what your family will do. I care about you, and I don't want to be some country girl you come see when you're bored of your regular life. So stay, or don't. I'm not waiting." _

He sighed and tried to focus instead on the email he was supposed to be composing, though it proved to be far less distracting than he thought it would be. He glanced impatiently toward the receptionist, wondering what he was doing here in the first place.

"Mr. Jackson?"

The little woman at the front desk watched as the tall man's dark-haired head snapped up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Ambrose will see you now."

As soon as Percy opened the door, he wished he hadn't.

"I don't want him here!" An angry woman stood with her arms crossed in the center of the room, glaring at a broad man in a suit. If looks could kill…

"Amelia, please," the man begged, "just—"

Amelia threw up her hands. "No! I know what you're thinking! You want him to be the heir, don't you? Well he can't be, because that Jackson woman isn't your wife, I am. And he isn't your real son, Todd is! So I want you to send him back to wherever godforsaken place he came from and don't you ever call him back!"

Percy cleared his throat. Amelia, a statuesque lady with long black hair, turned her dagger-like eyes on him. He swore they sharpened. He half-expected her to yell at him too, but she clammed up. Instead, she gave an icy stare to the man, then flounced out, taking care to brush forcefully past Percy's shoulder.

"You rang?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

The man smiled. "Percy. I'm glad you could make it."

Percy took a seat in one of the cushy chairs. "Not like I could refuse, Mr. Ambrose," he said wryly.

Peter Ambrose sighed. "Please, Percy. I'd rather have a member of the family that isn't so formal."

"Whatever you say, Dad."

That brought a stronger smile to Peter's face. He was a rather formal man, preferring sandals to loafers and brightly-colored citrus drinks to crystal glasses of scotch, unlike the rest of the family. He, also unlike most of the others, had taken Percy under his wing, given him a job, and was now promoting him, to the dismay of his less-than-enthusiastic wife, Amelia. The other Ambrose members—or rather, the more powerful ones—disagreed with Peter's actions toward Percy. They didn't like the idea of illegitimate children gaining power.

Percy was fully aware of the "full-blooded" members' opinions. Frankly, he thought them a bit hypocritical. His cousin, Nico di Angelo, another illegitimate child, was the right hand of his father, Holt Ambrose, the head of the mortuary department. Or, as it was better known, the Hades Division.

That was a more complicated thing to explain. It was a running gag the Ambrose family liked to keep throughout the years: the company head, Zachary Ambrose, who, coincidentally, handled airplanes, airports, airlines, air-transported cargo, etc, became known (jokingly of course) as Zeus, king of the skies. Percy's cousin Nico's dad, Holt, who ruled over mortuary services, acquired the name Hades, king of the dead. And Peter, who controlled nearly all the docks from Maine to Jersey, was, needless to say, Poseidon.

Zachary, Holt, and Peter were not the only CEOs of the company, Olympus Industries (whose name had been birthed as a part of the joke), however. They were, in fact, three out of twelve, having brought in nine more family members, including Zachary's wife, Helen, and their children. Funny thing was, the majority of the CEOs were, yet again, illegitimate children.

"All right," Peter said, taking the chair behind his desk. "Are you ready for your first assignment?"

"What was Amelia talking about?"

It was a stupid thing to say. No one asked questions like that. Not even the other CEOs. But Percy was known to be...impulsive. Reckless, even. And besides, he wanted to know.

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. "Percy, you know that your mother and I—"

"I know about that," Percy interrupted impatiently. "I'm not stupid. Amelia talked about heirs."

Peter sighed. "I love both my sons," he said. "There is no question about that. But I'm afraid that Todd's only ambition is mercenary in nature-monetary worth is all that matters to him, not values. And I fear that this department will fall if it goes under Todd's rule. Amelia knows what I think, that I would rather have, well, you as my heir, but she won't hear of it."

Percy was quiet. "Does that mean I'm fired?"

Peter blinked. "No, my boy," he laughed. "Amelia can scream all she wants, but I'm still employing you." He grinned. "Understand, boy?"

Before Percy could answer, a voice blared from the little intercom Peter had on his desk. "Mr. Ambrose, your associate has arrived. Should I buzz him in?"

Peter clicked the button. "Yes, have him wait for me. I'm in an important meeting. Thank you, Stacey."

Percy leaned back in his chair. "A new associate?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"The show must go on," Peter replied with a wry grin.

"Quoting Aiden, I see," Percy said, rolling his eyes at the reference of his rather _theatrical_ cousin.

Peter only gave an acknowledging smile.

"So," Percy prompted, "what's my assignment? Paperwork? Coffee run? Coat check?"

"I think you'll like this, my boy."

* * *

><p>Sea green eyes stared into reflective glass and the deep blue beyond it, blank. A streak of gray—a shark—stared back.<p>

To any passersby, communication would seem evident between the tall, dark-haired man and the long, slender animal, despite the abnormality of such a thing. But anyone who saw it would agree; the way this man and shark were locking eyes, it was almost as if they knew each other.

Percy placed his hand against the glass. "See you soon, Mark," he said. "Be good."

Mark the Shark, as employees liked to call him, wasn't much for being locked up. He kept thrashing around and banging his nose against the Plexiglas, and wouldn't let anyone touch him. The caretakers figured he'd end up hurting himself, and reasoned they'd need a specialist. Hence, they called Percy.

Now, normally, marine biologists tend to spend time studying the sea life, not interacting with it. That's what Percy had always thought, anyhow. But for some bizarre reason, sea creatures had taken a liking to him. No one knew why, and no one really cared. Peter Ambrose had though the "gift" a fortunate development. Therefore, Percy was the shark delivery boy.

But in his mind, he was still just a marine biologist. He didn't need to be any kind of animal whisperer. He liked his job, and as long as he got the check, he was fine. Maybe that's why the company liked him so much—no strings attached.

Or, it was, at least. Percy couldn't concentrate on work. Not while…she was gone. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He stared at her picture for what seemed like the millionth time, contemplating.

Finally, he hit the call button.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Then finally, "Hey, you've reached Cal. Sorry I can't make it to the phone right now, but leave the digits and I'll call you back!" Beep.

"Um, hey, Cal," he said awkwardly. He developed a sudden interest in his leather shoes, despite the fact that they were anything but face-to-face. "It's me again." He paused. What else could he say? "Look, I know I'm blowing up your cell with all this, and I'm sorry. I promise this is the last one. I just wanted to say…" He stopped again. What did he want to say? "I'm sorry that I couldn't go with you. I'm needed here. And there's always going to be one part of me that still loves you and hopes you'll come back, but… I'm letting you go. Like you wanted. Just take care of yourself, okay? Bye."

He punched the end button angrily, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. And when the screen lit up with her name, he froze. It used to be that he'd tear the message open and analyze every part of it, trying to pick her brain, wondering how she could ever love someone like him. But now he stared at it. And it took him much longer to slide the screen and read it.

_Percy, I know. Your life—your family—in New York is more important than I or Idaho could ever be. And I guess I'll always love you too, in some way. But don't be hopeful, please. I'm never coming back. No man finds me twice._

_-Cal_

"Percy."

He jumped. The phone hit the ground. He immediately bent to pick it up, but a tan hand was already scooping it up and offering it back. Percy looked at the owner. And sighed.

"Eric."

Eric Ambrose grinned. "Hey, buddy," he greeted. He jerked his head towards the dark glass. "Talking to the fish again?"

Percy scowled. "No." He eyed the blonde seventeen-year-old. "What are you doing here?" he asked, almost harshly.

Eric only tilted his head. "Business for Mom," he relayed carefully.

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Since when does Annalise's business involve aquariums?"

"How should I know?" Eric let his shoulders rise, then fall. "People don't question Ma, you know that."

Percy did know that. Annalise Ambrose was the one of the twelve CEOs of Olympus Industries, the "family business." She ran the romance part of the company, handling match-making, valentine cards, break-up hotlines, and more, but Percy hadn't asked.

He had only met Annalise once. She was beautiful, easily one of the most beautiful Ambrose women, but she was ambitious and she liked, well, games. Playing with other people's hearts, really. Her husband's too.

Percy wasn't really surprised. Sometimes, he actually felt bad for Eric. His mother was actually pretty abusive to him, emotionally at least. Eric was important, but he was Annalise's errand boy.

Thing was, why would Annalise have an errand to run at the aquarium, of all places? She hated animals. Especially slippery ones.

Eric looked down at Percy's phone, which he still hadn't given back. "Cal?" he asked in disbelief, reading the name on the screen. "You're still talking to her?"

Percy snatched the phone back. "No," he stated.

"The call log says you called her not five minutes ago," Eric pointed out dryly.

God, Percy hated him. "Don't you have business for Mommy?" he sneered.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Perce. Look, I went through the trouble of getting the extra waivers from management for you. They're with the guy at the front desk." He pointed.

Percy nodded gruffly, and deftly left Eric to his own devices.

That kid didn't know how lucky he was, Percy thought. At least his parents were around. Percy's dad hardly acknowledged him. Then again, Eric's dad, Aaron, wasn't much for acknowledging either.

It was during the process of signing papers with Jake (according to his nametag) that Percy finally noticed the table of fierce philanthropists, handing out flyers on saving some endangered animal. It didn't look like there were any takers.

"What's this?" Percy asked Jake.

He hardly looked up. "Some eco-nuts," he said. "They're trying to fight the company again."

Percy thanked him, gave him the papers, and, against better judgment, headed over to the table.

"Save the green sea turtle!" A dark-haired man waved a flyer in his face, appearing as if out of nowhere.

"Uh…thanks." Percy took it awkwardly, suddenly having second thoughts about approaching the table.

"Derek, don't assault our sponsors," a girl's voice said behind Percy. "It only scares them away—remember the Portland debacle?" Derek muttered something about annoying children as a redhead joined him behind the table. "We appreciate your support," she said, though Percy hadn't actually done anything.

"Oh, um, your welcome," he said stupidly. This girl was pretty—more than pretty. Her hair was a nice auburn that came to her shoulders, and emerald green eyes that sparkled. Her face was attractive enough, with high cheekbones, pouty lips, and perfect eyebrows. And everything neck down, well, let's just say Percy appreciated it. All these things would seem normal or average individually, but if you put them all together, they created a breathtakingly beautiful girl.

And Percy fell a little bit in love with her.

That was his problem. He always fell a little bit in love with girls. It happened all the time; he'd meet one who had especially perfect legs, or blue eyes that were just the right hue, or such a graceful way of dancing he'd wonder if she was a goddess. And he wouldn't be able to help falling just a little bit in love with that girl.

Then he'd wake up. And she, whoever she was that time, would be lying next to him with a smile on her face and expecting so much more than he wanted to give. There was only one girl, really that made him want to stop it all. But that was over.

A heartbreaker, you might call him, but Percy hardly realized what he was doing.

He was in it for the fun.

"Hey, I know you!" the redheaded girl exclaimed suddenly. "You're Percy Jackson! The marine biologist, right?"

She looked only _mildly_ excited, which was refreshing. He wasn't the world's best, but he was good. So good that once in a while a girl would recognize his name and become his biggest fan, at least for the night.

"Yeah," he answered, a little pleased. Derek, after glancing between them, took his cue to leave.

The redhead smiled up at Percy; she was a little on the short side, but he liked that. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Mark the Shark," he informed her, and her smile widened.

"Oh, Mark!" she said. "I saw him back in New York before they shipped him here! I tried to get him freed, you know," she added.

Of course she did. Percy smiled too. "You live in New York?"

"Brooklyn," she amended. She tilted her head. "My dad's here in Philly on a business trip and I thought I'd see the sights while I'm here."

"And try to save the green sea turtle?" Percy asked wryly, fluttering the flyer.

She shrugged. "This is just a side thing," she admitted. "I'm a secret agent," she added in a whisper. Percy laughed, surprising himself. He hadn't laughed like that in a while.

"You're funny, Red," he said.

She smirked. "That's what my initials spell," she told him.

"What's the R stand for?" he asked. She only smiled. "Renee? Raquel? Rumpelstilskin?"

She laughed again, a real laugh. "No!" she cried, brushing her hair back from her face. "It's Rachel." She smiled again.

He waited, but she didn't say anything else. He mock pouted. "No E-D?" he teased. "Rachel's all I get?"

She seemed to consider this.

"Hey, Rach," Derek was back. "We gotta go, or we're going to be late for the chinchilla protest."

Rachel's eyes grew wide. "Oh, right!" She glanced at Percy with a strange expression, as if she didn't quite know what to do with him.

Finally, she whipped a Sharpie from her back pocket, seized his hand, and scribbled something down on his skin. "There," she said, stepping back like an artist admiring her work. "That's my cell."

Before he could react, she scooped up a pile of flyers and hurried away, yelling, "Call me! We should talk some more!"

He watched her go, red hair flying out behind her, and laughed, because he was a broken mess, and beautiful girls like Rachel still wanted him.


	2. Meetings

**Okay, I know I went kind of MIA for a while, but no worries. I have just been FREAKING OUT about the Son of Neptune coming out in TWO DAYS. **

**Then I started going crazy reading all about Reyna, Hazel, Frank, Octavian, and so on, that I got caught up in writing a little, I don't know, threeshot, on Percy reuniting with Annabeth, but from Percy's point of view only. I'm not done with it yet, but definitely check it out when I put it up.**

**Also, it hasn't been getting much attention, but I put together this small story called The Little Things; a oneshot story. I'm on a oneshot binge right now, I think you can tell by the lack of update with Voyage of the Argonauts. Sorry. It got boring. Don't worry though, I'll be getting to work on that as soon as I can, which might not be for a while, considering all the homework I have (-_-), but still.**

**Sorry for rambling, here's your chapter :)**

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><p><strong>AnnabethMeetings**

The way Annabeth Chase was glaring at the target, it was a wonder it wasn't bursting into flames. She stood poised, bow pulled to her shoulder, fingers gripping the arrow's shaft so tightly she was sure she'd grow calluses.

That was okay. She had plenty of calluses.

She let the string snap back, watched it fling the arrow into the target, and frowned when it was far off her goal. Archery had never been her strong suit.

"If you glare at that any more, it's going to run away crying," a voice remarked.

Annabeth glanced to the speaker. "Shut up, Lee," she grumbled, reaching for another arrow. "You're supposed to be my teacher, not my critic."

Lee Fletcher shouldered his bow, sighing. A rather tall man of slim build, Lee was made for archery, and, as it sometimes seemed to Annabeth, archery was made for him. The effortlessness of Lee's skills escaped her almost every time she picked up an arrow, to her frustration.

"Alright," Lee said, "well first off, you keep putting the wrong foot forward." He nudged her left foot back, then leveled his eyes with her arm, and tilted it up. "There. Now go."

She frowned, doubtful. Then let go of the string. It hit the center of the target. She pursed her lips. "Thanks," she said grudgingly. She didn't count it as a win.

Lee sighed. "Why are you taking up archery anyway?" he asked. "It's not like you like it."

She shook her head. "It's just a pastime."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pastime?" he repeated. "Annabeth, since when do you have time to pass?"

She shrugged. "Business has been slow. You know that." She backtracked mentally, because maybe Lee didn't know that. As the co-head of the Apollo Division, he supervised many sub-divisions: theatre, music, medicine, electric engineering, etcetera.

That was something she admired about Lee, though she'd never admit it. Aiden Ambrose, Lee's boss and the owner of the Apollo part of Olympus Industries, tended to neglect his duties in favor of driving his expensive cars and throwing exclusive parties, leaving Lee, his son out of wedlock (as many of the employees were), to run the business, which wasn't easy, Annabeth knew.

Lee only pursed his lips. "Yeah well, we've got a meeting with the twelve in…" He consulted his silver watch. "Two hours."

Annabeth nodded. "That's enough time to finish off this," she pointed at the full quiver at her feet.

Lee watched her shoot another arrow. "I've got some things to take care of with my department before the meet," he told her. "I'm going to leave now, and I'll see you then, okay?"

"Sure," she replied, and returned to her shooting.

The twelve. Meetings with them weren't always pleasant. It seemed, as she'd observed for the last six years she'd spent with the company, that the Ambrose family liked nothing if not to argue.

Zachary and his brothers were frequent participants in said arguments, mostly over property rights. Annalise, head of the Aphrodite Division, and Amy, the Artemis Division (partly a feminist's group, partly an animal rights panel), got into it a lot too, mostly over the pros and cons of men. Not to mention Harry and Aaron, mostly over Annalise. Or Alexa and Aaron, mostly over stupidity. Or…

Point was, once someone disagreed, it would be World War III. Not something Annabeth looked forward to.

She focused instead on her shooting, determined to master this. Hobbies were her stress release; she'd gotten swimming, drawing, tennis, basketball, and soccer, and she would be damned if she didn't get archery. Next on the list was horseback riding, and, well, she wanted to get that over with.

The next thing she knew, her buzzing Blackberry was breaking her out of her trance.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Annabeth, where the hell are you?"

"Um, archery center?"

"What! Beth, the meeting's starting in twenty minutes!"

She ditched her bow and hightailed it for the locker room. "I can be there in fifteen."

"But the twelve—"

"Make that ten," she interrupted. "Look, Thals, I gotta go. Stall for me, okay?"

She promptly punched the end button, stuffed the phone in her bag along with everything else she could find, then raced for the door, throwing her heels on as she went.

"Taxi!" she shouted.

A gray one screeched to a stop at the sight of her. Without waiting to see who was driving it, she pitched everything into the backseat and threw herself in behind it.

"Empire State Building," she rattled off to the driver, rummaging through her bag.

"Yes, Miss Chase."

Annabeth paused. She knew that voice. She glanced into the driver's seat.

To her surprise, there were three, each with hair the color of ash, graying skin, and what looked like colorless eyes. They all seemed to be about eighty years old. Annabeth blinked. The surprise wore off when she realized she recognized them.

"Thank you," Annabeth answered.

Darcy, Enid, and Patty Grey were personal friends of Olympus Industries, Annabeth's company. They rather acted like chauffeurs to Annabeth and, more often, Annabeth's boss, so she'd known them for quite a while. She thought of them as nice, informational (but rarely so, unless you had something to trade for it), and a little crazy. They were old ladies, after all. Annabeth had learned that, disregarding their age, they'd fool you; they proved to have road rage on more than one occasion.

"How's the business, Miss Annabeth?" one of them asked.

It took Annabeth a moment to distinguish the old woman from her sisters and remember her name. Enid. "Going well," Annabeth said, almost cautiously. Enid tended to be a gossip, and there were some things that Annabeth's boss would not like getting out.

"Yeah?" another—Patty—responded. She shared a look with her sisters, even Darcy, who was driving and had to swerve past a red Bug (throwing Annabeth into the door despite her seatbelt). Patty continued, "We hear there's a new one in the company. Poseidon Division."

That caught Annabeth's attention. "Really?" she asked. Poseidon, whose real name was Peter Ambrose, had no children co-running his division, besides Todd, his haughty son. "Who?"

Darcy twisted around and gave Annabeth a gapped grin, who gasped and gripped the door's handle. To her shock, none of the sisters seemed disturbed by the driver's negligence.

"Don't know his name," Darcy said to Annabeth. "But we hear Amelia's not too happy about it."

"And neither is Todd," Enid added with a smile.

Patty shrieked suddenly and swatted at Darcy, accidently whacking Enid on the back of the head, who catapulted forward and hit the dashboard. Darcy, instead of stopping, slammed on the accelerator.

"No, no!" Patty screamed. "It was back there! Right back there!"

"Oops," Darcy commented. "Hold on!" She jerked the wheel to a hard left. Annabeth's stomach rolled as the car lurched sideways in a hairpin turn—earning the angry honks of about fifty other cars—and flattened her against the seat as it sped back the way it had come.

"STOP!" Enid shouted.

Annabeth flew forward, then choked against the seatbelt as Darcy finally decided to flatten the brake pedal. She gasped, trying to recover from the entire debacle, as the three sisters turned to study her.

"This is your stop, dear," Patty reminded her, as if she didn't know.

"That's…" Enid picked up the meter and, using the dashboard, crashed it into submission. "Fifty dollars," she finished with a smile.

* * *

><p>Malcolm, Annabeth's assistant, smirked from his perch on a waiting room chair as he watched her stumble out of the elevator, looking a little green. "Grey sisters?" he asked.<p>

She nodded. "I don't know why their business is still legal," she said.

Malcolm fell in step beside her. "'Cause Olympus wants them to be," he answered lightly, as if she didn't already know. "Guess what?"

"The twelve?" she sighed, eyeing the conference room.

Malcolm tapped his nose in that charade _you got it!_ gesture. "That's right," he replied. "You'd better get in there." He pushed her to the door.

She turned back. "Malcolm?"

"Vodka's in your desk!"

Good old Malcolm. Mentally preparing herself, she opened the door. Surprisingly, there was only a murmur of talking. No shouting. No threats. No flying objects.

She blinked, but recovered. "Morning, Alexa," she murmured as she passed. Alexa Ambrose hardly spared her assistant a glance, merely a "Mhm" of approval at her arrival. Annabeth was used to this. Alexa was normally too busy in her own head or resolving family conflicts to deal with her.

"What's going on?" she whispered to the woman on her other side as she slid in her seat.

Thalia Grace looked with mild interest at the twelve CEOs of Olympus Industries. She was a short woman of 5'5 with cropped black hair and another two feet of attitude. The silver pendant around her neck marked her as the co-commander of the Artemis Division, alongside Amy Ambrose.

"I have no idea," she said. "But Amy hasn't said a peep."

They both stole a glance at what was the most controversial member of Ambrose women, looking serene, but tense in her seat beside Thalia's. Amy, a beautiful young woman with a face resembling a child's, was known for being ill-tempered, merciless, and headstrong. She was probably the least popular boss on the Who You'd Want To Work With list. But Annabeth had a sneaking suspicion she liked it that way.

"Attention, CEOs," a voice called. All talking ceased, all eyes went to the front of the room, where two of Henry Ambrose's (Olympus's official messenger/secretary) assistants stood, looking smug.

Annabeth stifled a snort. Travis and Connor Stoll were hardly responsible enough to do anything except pull off a major office prank.

"This meeting is called to order," the slightly taller twin (Travis?) announced. The other, who must have been Connor, smacked a gavel against the table and looked extremely proud of himself for it.

Annabeth sighed.

_And so it begins._


End file.
